


cold until you feel my warmth

by kamrynwhowanders



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Background Destiel, Cuddles, Doesn't matter, Dreamwalking, Love Letters, Lucifer calls Sam beloved, M/M, Prayer, Praying to Lucifer, Sam can't say yes, and Lucifer is okay with that, demons making stupid decisions, everyone involved dies in flames, he can wait a hundred years if need be, just sort of sorrow and ancientness, oneshot but I can add more chapters if people like it, season 5, somewhere between fluff and angst, what stupid-ass demon decided it was a good idea to hurt his Lord's vessel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamrynwhowanders/pseuds/kamrynwhowanders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lucifer."<br/>Sam breathes the word with more love and reverence than the demons could muster, and they look askance at each other as their Lord appears with a flap of wings and a cool, even expression as he looks upon them with a fury like cold fire.</p>
<p>(Lucifer walks with Sam in dreams, and curls within his arms, and courts his beloved to his side. Demons are impatient, and try to force Sam to say yes. Lucifer is not pleased.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
_you're always cold to the touch, at first, but you warm, pressing your face into the join where my neck meets my shoulder and breathing in deep like a prayer. you whisper my name and I wriggle a bit, your breath chilling my neck._

_"you're always so cold," I say, with a laugh, but you don't smile back, just nod sadly against my skin and mumble, lips brushing over my pulse, "you warm me."_

_you like to touch me, like to press yourself into my arms touching me with every bit of you, until it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins, and when you lie across from me on my bed and whisper tales of ancient darkness they always end with "and then there was light, and you."_

_I think that you love me, but I still haven't touched you outside of the aching sweetness of dreams, I don't tell you where I am because I still have some sense and I don't want the world to end, even if I get to spend eternity with you._

_selfishly I also have no wish to share a body because then I wouldn't be able to feel your cool skin pressed into my shirt in a trust made all the sweeter by being given by the ancient liar._

_and there's my brother._

_dean cannot enter these early-morning-chill-and-sunrise dreams, and I'll admit that I'm glad to have a place where he doesn't intrude and clutch in blood and darkness, because blood and darkness have no place here (ironic) and maybe that's why I don't push you away when you curl into my arms and close your eyes like you have everything anyone could ever want, why I let you lie beside me in the chilly drowsiness of my dreams until we're both warm and sleepy and you put your head on my chest as you tell stories to the steady thrum of my heartbeat, until dean shakes me awake with a scoff about how only weak men get eight hours of sleep but I can tell that there's a looseness in his shoulders when he looks at me and the circles under my eyes are nearly gone, because you keep the nightmares away and make sleeping something to look forward to every night._

_castiel knows about your visits, I think, but says nothing, except to tell me over and over why I cannot say yes, eyes aching with an age-old pain, until even dean mouths the words along with him and rolls his eyes and breaks the angel's heart a little more._

_I told you about the heart in castiel's eyes once and you smiled a little ruefully and said that winchesters had their own allure, and then you brushed a rare kiss along my brow and lay silent until I awoke._

_this is something like a love letter and something like a prayer because I'm always on the brink of telling you where I am and the balance has tipped and there are dirty cloths pressed into our mouths and a throng of demons chanting words to remove the concealment on our bones and they want vengeance, are planning to force me to accept you by threatening dean and I think you were wise in the way you went about it because the only emotion I feel is regret for our struggling little world and regret for my brother and regret for your cool skin on mine and they're taking away the gag now--_

"Lucifer."  
Sam breathes the word with more love and reverence than the demons could muster, and they look askance at each other as their Lord appears with a flap of wings and a cool, even expression as he looks upon them with a fury like cold fire.

  
"Well," he says, quiet but sharp enough that the silence bleeds. "What have we here? I hope you didn't hurt my Sam."  
The demons are silent and trembling, with awe or fear, but Lucifer's expression never changes as he begins to glow--

  
"Lucifer, remember Dean," says Sam, and the glow stops. Lucifer casts a thoughtful glance over his shoulder at Dean, who glares at him in mute horror, and then at Sam.

  
"Mmm," he hums in assent and then holds out a hand in a mimicry of the way Sam used to use his darkness-begotten gifts, as the demons rush from their vessels and coalesce in a cloud of smoke which implodes on itself with a grating scream and falls to the ground as ash. He's still looking at Sam, and asks, genuinely curious,

  
"What should I do with the vessels, beloved?"  
Dean makes a gut-wrenching sound of betrayal, and Sam avoids his eyes as he says

  
"Heal them, wipe their memories starting at their possession, and transport them home."  
It's a challenge, almost, a test, and Lucifer nods. He flicks his wrist and Sam's bindings fall to the floor. There are ugly, painful-looking lesions on Lucifer's face and spotted down his throat that never show up in dreams, and Sam winces in sympathy, as Lucifer goes from person to person, sending them home. The last is lucid enough to look up at Lucifer and whisper thank you before her eyes close and she disappears. Dean's bindings fall finally, and he stands and lunges at Lucifer, who stands stiffly and lets him break his knuckles on his face. Dean whimpers, and Lucifer considers the bleeding mess of a hand for a moment before closing his hand just above the break and healing it.

  
"You love your brother," he says, softly. "You love him and you will protect him to your dying breath, even if your father orders you to kill him." He pauses, and looks at Sam, his cold, impassive face going tender and his lips quirking in a half-smile. "In those ways, Dean Winchester, you are nothing like Michael."  
He drops Dean's wrist, and Dean draws it to himself, shuddering in repugnance and fear.  
"Sam," he says. "Beloved. I know you can't accept me yet."

  
"I'm sorry," Sam says, roughly, in the back of his throat, and his eyes are glassy.  
"No."  
It's a simply stated word, that means so many things. _No, you have nothing to be sorry for. No, you're not sorry. No, don't make your brother resent you anymore._  
Lucifer presses two clinical fingers to Dean's forehead and shields him from the angels once more, and Dean grunts. He turns his back on the hunter and moves towards kneeling Sam. He offers a hand, and Sam takes it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. Lucifer wraps his arms around Sam and very lightly lets his nose rest on the pulse point for a second, carving words into Sam's bones with far more care than he had Dean's and adding embellishments of love. He stops to ask,

  
"Can I find you?" and when Sam hesitates but shakes his head very slightly, he doesn't add the loophole allowing him to find his beloved anywhere, though it pains him. He tilts Sam's head down to kiss his brow before he steps back and leaves with his wings fluttering. Sam closes his eyes with a sharp pang of loss before he turns miserably to look at Dean.

"Beloved?" Dean spits, and there's so much hurt in his eyes.

  
"He loves me," Sam says. "But I won't end the world for him, and he knows it. He's better than your angel, at any rate."  
Dean frowns.   
"Cas--" he begins, and Sam blinks, and almost smiles.

  
"I meant Michael, actually," he says, carefully, and watches Dean scowl darkly. "Perhaps Lucifer is to me as Cas would be to you if he and Michael were the same person."  
He watches the thought play behind his brother's eyes and smiles sadly when Dean's gaze drops.

  
"You would still say no, but it would be hard, wouldn't it," Sam says. "He would visit your dreams and keep the nightmares away and beg you to say yes until he realized that wouldn't work and instead began to talk to you until you knew how important you are. Don't you dare judge me for this, Dean. Ruby was a mistake, using my powers was a mistake, but I have never had someone look at me the way he does and I don't know how to hate him."

  
Dean opens his mouth and closes it and nods as Sam turns away and begins to walk towards where the Impala is parked, feeling old and tired.   
Maybe he should take a nap and hope for dreams.


	2. sharing warmth at last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam can't think of a reason not to say yes.

_I curl up in a ball under the gentle shadows of a blanket pulled over my head to hide from the world and cry, shaking shoulders and hot tears and sobs I would never release in the waking world._

_you sit beside me, rubbing my back and murmuring words I can't understand but that make my ears tingle and waves of warmth sweep down my spine, and when I finally calm you say nothing but let me press my face into your chest for once and surrender myself to you, held in your arms quiet and trusting and tired._

_"Beloved," you breathe, and press your nose into my hair, cold breath making me shiver and pull soft blankets closer around me._

_"What is wrong?" I laugh wetly into your shirt and nuzzle closer._

_"Don't you know?"_

_"Dean," you growl, rumbling under my ear, and your arms tighten._

_"I don't want to talk about Dean right now," I say, and tilt my head up to look at you, faces scarcely apart and you hold still as stone as if you might scare me away, hardly breathing, until I move up and let my lips glance over yours before pressing my nose into the skin of your throat, feeling the movement of your skin as you suck in a breath and the vibrations as you say, awed, "Sam."_

_I smile. "Lucifer."_

_you lean down to brush kisses over my face and nose and ears, my forehead my eyelids the bottom of my jaw the tip of my nose until you hover over my lips and I lean forward to press my lips to yours, and smile as you shudder._

_"Lucifer," I whisper against your mouth, reverent and worshipful, and you breathe in the softness of your name and press closer to me, breath catching in your throat, lips moving clumsy but determined against mine as I soften my mouth and part my lips and teach you how to kiss properly, and you cling to me, fingers threaded through my hair, and I've never kissed a man before but it doesn't matter, because there is nothing better than the slick slide of your lips against mine and the tug of your hands in my hair and your chest pressed into mine as you gasp my name into my mouth and I taste your adoration on your lips._

_I pull away reluctantly and look into your eyes and smile at the awe and shock and pleasure in your eyes, and then a certain smugness._

_my lips quirk. "What?" I say, expectantly, and you don't ask me what I'm talking about, just help me sit up and point at the mirror which probably wasn't there before but I've learned not to question the rules of this dream world and so I watch your head propped on my shoulder from behind me, your cool lips formed in a possessive smile before I look at my swollen lips and disheveled hair and laugh, turning to press a kiss to your head._

_"Possessive bastard," I mumble, and there's a twinge of regret that I won't wake up looking like this along with a fervent thankfulness that at least dean won't know about this newest betrayal. you're always soft and sweet to me, I think, soft and sweet and ancient and this possessiveness and smugness those are new and I like them, smile at the satisfied little smirk with irrepressible joy._

_"So if I picked up a girl in a bar," I begin, and you growl, wrapping your arms possessively around me for a moment before you seem to draw back, collecting yourself. "If that's what you want," you say, stiffly, and I laugh, turning to press a kiss to your lips._

_"I don't," I say. "I just like it when you're jealous." "I'm always jealous," you say, simply. "Jealous of Dean for seeing you all the time, jealous of girls you pick up in bars for being intimate with you, jealous of everyone you've ever loved, jealous of everyone who stands in the same room as you and breathes the same air--"_

_"Jealous of all the various things that have possessed me?" I suggest, lightly, but your eyes darken. "They took your soul against your will and tainted you with darkness, they have nothing but my wrath. No one should ever hurt you." I look away, flushing at the furious love, and say, a little shakily, "Why shouldn't I say yes?" You go stiff and still and silent, and I leave the dreamworld._

 

Sam opens his eyes and stares up at the warped, dirty ceiling.

"Dean?" he says, sounding much younger than his twenty-five years. "I'm scared."

"What's up, Sammy?" Dean says, voice sleep-roughened.

"I can't think of a reason not to say yes."

There's a long pause.

"End of the world, much?"

"I don't think he wants to end the world, and if I ask him to, he probably won't."

"You won't be there to object anymore." Sam chuckles.

"He's the other half of my soul, Dean, and he loves me. I'll still be there."

"Come on, little brother, don't do this to me."

"Yeah, that's what's stopping me from telling him yes right now."

"Sammy, he's the devil."

"He's really not."

Dean grunts and sits up.

"Castiel, we need you, Sam's thinking about saying yes," he says, to empty air, and Castiel shows up on the end of Dean's bed with a soft fluttering. Sam blinks, because the last time he checked they were protected against angels finding them, but he's not as surprised as he probably should have been.

"Sam?" he says, inquiringly, and Sam sighs. "I'm not just thinking about it. I'm pretty fucking close to doing it, and why not?" Cas is silent for a moment, and then, voice tight with fury,

"I fell for you, Sam Winchester--"

"Bullshit. You fell for Dean. You've just barely gotten over the demon blood thing." Cas' gaze drops, and Dean presses his lips together tightly.

"He's lying to you, Sam," he says, and his voice is thick. "Please, I've seen what happens if you say yes--"

"And who showed you that?"

Dean's gaze drops as well. "Lucifer," Sam whispers, and feels the angel's attention focus on him, searching through the aether.

"NO!" Dean shouts, and the tears begin to fall.

"I'm in Room 170, 3457 Tasselhoff in Aubrey, Texas, come here, please." There's a pause, and then Lucifer appears, sitting on Sam's bed in an eerie mirror of Castiel on the other bed. He still has the sores, and Sam rubs his face unconsciously, trying to erase the ugly blemishes.

"Sam?" Lucifer says, and his tone is much different than Castiel's, hopeful and gentle.

"No, Sam, NO! Please!" Dean surges up out of his bed and grabs Sam, pulling him bodily away from Lucifer, covering his mouth, shaking his head in a frantic display of desperation. Lucifer's gaze takes on an edge of sorrow, and he turns to Castiel, who stands up, eyes beginning to glow as his wings spread in dark stains over the wallpaper.

"You shall not touch him," Castiel growls, and Lucifer tilts his head.

"That's not your decision to make," he says, levelly, and Castiel disappears.

"CAS!" Dean cries, and turns to Sam. "Do you see?"

"Calm down, Dean, your angel is fine, he's temporarily trapped in a fourth-dimensional pocket to keep him out of the way. He was being a nuisance," Lucifer says, and huffs in a way that reminds Sam that Lucifer is a little brother, too.

Dean disappears, as well, and Sam stumbles, raising an eyebrow.

"He's a few miles away," Lucifer says. "In the middle of a field."

Sam nods, and takes a deep breath. "You're not going to last much longer in this vessel," he says. "Lucifer, yes."

Lucifer is still, and then smiles, heartbreakingly sweet. His mouth opens, and he pours out of the vessel, bright white light twisted into a form that Sam recognizes in his soul, terrifyingly beautiful, with a thousand eyes scattered over his body and six bright wings and long tendrils of light spilling over his shoulders, and a face that has the same familiar features that Sam sees in the mirror everyday. It's not all good, all of his wings are charred and there's darkness spidering out of a spot in the middle of Lucifer's belly and tainting him, and the faintest suggestion of a demon's face shadowed under the bright one. Sam makes a soft sound and stretches out a hand, unthinking, only wanting to soothe that hurt, and then his vision goes white and he falls through darkness into the echoing emptiness he's had since birth, but there is light pouring into that emptiness and filling it, and a joyful, ringing song fills his ears and this is the best decision he's ever made, ever.

Lucifer opens their eyes and looks around. Sam pushes their hair back with one hand. Nick is lying, shriveled and dark, on the ground, and they let out a regretful sigh.

"We should -"

"-get Dean and Cas-"

"-before they hurt themselves," they say, Lucifer's tone slightly softer, just that little bit smoother and more precise. Lucifer's hand flexes, and Dean and Castiel stand before them. Castiel knows what has happened immediately, they see it in his eyes, and he grabs Dean's arm, tightly.

"Lucifer," he says, stiffly, and Dean sobs.

"I'm here too," Sam says.

"We're sharing," Lucifer supplies.

"This probably won't work all of the time, though," Sam says.

"Talking to yourself is generally considered a sign of insanity," Lucifer agrees. Dean looks like his brain is about to explode.

"Don't worry, Dean, we can take turns." Sam says, brightly. They smile, because for the first time in forever they are completely happy.

"Oh, God," Dean manages, and sags into Cas, who holds him up effortlessly. "What have you done?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too happy with the last paragraph or so, though I do like the description of Lucifer.

**Author's Note:**

> I was scrolling through the Samifer tag on Tumblr when I saw someone had written a poem, "Frozen," by Kansas, and it sparked an hour-long writing session in the middle of the night which was this. It could be a oneshot, or a chaptered fic, I haven't decided yet.
> 
> I would just like to say that Dean is not, actually, a bad person, just hurt and confused and struggling. (my poor baby has issues like whoa and season 5 was not a good season for him. Actually, none of the seasons were good seasons for him. Maybe, like, season 1 and mid-season 8 made him happy, but other than that...) Sam's trying to explain it, though.
> 
> In case it wasn't clear, the italicized part is Sam praying to Lucifer inside his head, and the viewpoint is a mixture of Sam and Lucifer's, not really clear because the lines between them aren't really clear and also because I couldn't decide which one to use.


End file.
